Masculine Friendships Form Differently, Women's Relationships Other. Ought We Stop Trying to Make Men More Like Women?
It is beneficial to talk. Or so men are repeatedly told, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. These women are puzzled by the typical male propensity to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return with no insight about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that while? Why haven't they asked how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father?
For women, whose personal friendships often center on an intimate and detailed understanding of each other's private feelings, this form of male intimacy—built on apparently sidestepping meaningful conversation—can seem strangely empty and unfulfilling. No wonder, we think, that over a quarter of British men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many hesitate to visit a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, appear permanently frustrated for unspoken reasons. Suppressing everything up benefits nobody.
Reconsidering the Merit of Quiet Companionship
However, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the strengths of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the closeness forged among these mostly older men. His four-year study has been published as a paper contending that, particularly for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships centered on shared activities—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated.
This muted model of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow states.
Granted, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how toddlers interact—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: just because it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever activity allows them to spend time in the presence of others who also value less talk.
Beyond Words: A Tacit Dialect of Concern
Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that showing emotion is weak, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Instead, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the surface of seemingly reserved friendships. Is he right?
From a female perspective, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of observation indicates that while men may be hesitant initially to open up personal matters, once they do, they can be remarkably open. A absence of overt emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling altogether.
Additionally, while modern men brought up in a more expressive culture may be better at articulating feelings, older men are not at all unable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, yearning, discontent, or satisfaction for hours.
What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to express what looks remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer was absent and then returned struggling, his friends noticed and were concerned. But, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't probe what was wrong. Instead, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping routine. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, except without ever naming the elephant in the room.
The Core Question: Is Connection Need Words?
It's not everyone's preferred way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and despair—is simply the awareness that someone is there enough to walk through life's challenges with you, does that invariably be articulated with words?
The debate persists. Maybe the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that varied forms of friendship hold equal worth, respectively meeting the psychological needs of various individuals in their own effective way.
